


Granny's Dine-In

by Ghanima_Starkiller



Series: Reimagining Fairy Tales [7]
Category: Fairy Tales and Related Fandoms, Rotkäppchen | Little Red Riding Hood (Fairy Tale)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 09:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghanima_Starkiller/pseuds/Ghanima_Starkiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red gets an unexpected visitor at her granny's family diner...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Granny's Dine-In

The name of the little diner is Granny’s, even though Rosie Red’s own grandmother has been dearly departed for years. It’s all gleaming chrome and red vinyl, with a big showcase featuring Rosie’s specialty: her homemade strawberry pies. Every Saturday, she closes Granny’s, walks to the market to buy their fresh shipment of strawberries, and spends the rest of the day baking in the gleaming kitchen; the scent settles into the place, giving it a spicy perfume for the Sunday lunch rush.

His name is Wolfe—or, at least, that’s what’s stitched on his faded coveralls when he comes in every Sunday for a slice of pie. He’s dark, mysterious, says, ‘yessum’ or ‘no, ma’am,’ when asked a question, and one time, he told her his name, pronouncing it ‘Wuff,’ but otherwise keeps to himself. And he watches; his gaze stalks her as he sits on the stool at the corner of the counter. He’s large, even hunched over she can tell that he’s tall, and his hands are long with a look of strength in them. He’s hairy, but not in an unpleasant way, and his eyes are such an intense coffee color, they appear almost black.

He follows her to the market, watching from the shadows, never revealing himself and staying far enough behind that she doesn’t see him or feel his presence. She turns back to look over her shoulder several times nevertheless, as if she senses him, senses her role as prey. She returns to the diner, the blinds drawn over the wrap-around windows. There’s a little neon sign to the right of the doors that is switched to ‘CLOSED.’ She never bothers to lock up when she’s inside, and yet she’s still surprised when she turns and sees the man standing in the gloom of the dining room wearing a wolf half-mask that covers his face to just below his nose, and paw gloves. He’s not wearing the coveralls now, a black t-shirt, clinging to his muscular chest, outlining the remarkable contours of his brawn, dark jeans that serve the same purpose and also manage to highlight his excitement. A gun is thrust into the waistband but he doesn’t draw it. A tattoo of a wolf is partially visible on his left bicep, under the sleeve.

Rosie has no idea how he managed to enter without ringing the bell above the door; perhaps he’d been here waiting for her for some time. She holds her hands up in meek surrender and he growls to her to get on the counter. She hesitates for a moment, but lets out a surprised peep as he begins striding toward her, and scrambles over her own feet, her vinyl platform shoes nearly sending her sprawling on the linoleum floor. “All the way,” he tells her as she perches on the edge, “hands and knees.” She does as she’s told, the polished chrome is cool against her palms and her knees where her short skirt rides up, aware of the tempting view of her white knickers she’s giving him.

She tries to watch him over her shoulder; the cash register is next to her left heel, and he seems to move that way, but she hears no telltale chime of someone opening the cash drawer. She gasps when, instead, she feels the short muzzle of his mask nuzzling into her ass, only the thin cotton of her panties separating him from her flesh, his breath hot, burning wetly through the fabric, and she is suddenly aflame. Her legs spread for him even as his hands grasp her ankles and pull her apart. He tilts his head back and now it’s his chiseled, stubbled jaw pressing into her, licking lightly at her pussy through the material, a finger with a theatric but rigid claw joins in, tickling the place where her clitoris peeks from between her lips. She bites her red lip and arches her back, wet now, an eruption of her sweet juices coming hotly from within and dousing the crotch of her undies. He presses his mouth there, breathing in deeply, nestling his mouth and snout into her until her panties are soaked through.

Hanging her head, looking down between her parted legs, she can see that he’s cupping the bulge of his cock, rubbing it aggressively. She starts to get that steamy feeling between her legs, that throbbing excitement that drives a need for pleasure, for pleasuring and release. More so when he takes the crotch of her panties between his teeth and tugs, pulling the wet patch between his lips and sucking hungrily, tasting her. She moans as he growls and snarls, shaking his head in a decidedly canine gesture, his hands running up the insides of her thighs, caressing. And then he’s ripping the fabric down her legs and the world is turning upside down. Or, rather, she’s turning right side up, her ass slapping loudly against the counter, his big hands lifting her legs in the air, her back flat against the chrome as she stares up at the ruby vinyl heeled platforms sticking comically straight up, her underwear hanging from one ankle.

He’s taking a seat on the stool in front of her, like he’s lining up for the lunch special. Or desert. And he definitely has a ravenous look in his black eyes. “The better to eat you with,” he murmurs, kissing her soft thighs, leaving wet trails against her pale skin with his tongue, before diving into her sweltering pussy. He gorges on her as if she were made of the sweet, sticky strawberry jam she fills her pies will. His snout nudges into her, the soft black nose bumping into her clit, running between her lips as he gobbled her up and swallowed her down. Her hips begin to sway and then to buck wildly, her hands reaching above her head to grab the edge of the counter and her eyes rolling back into her head; she’s screaming with abandon as she comes for him, filling his gullet with more of her sultry juice.

She’s turning over again, now her breasts and chin are pressed against the counter, her legs hanging over the edge with him in between them, releasing his cock: huge, thick and agonizingly hard. He shoves it into her, hips rocking back and forth as he sinks his big dick to its root inside of her. She can feel her cunt sucking tightly at him, her skin dragging along his length as he withdraws, as if it doesn’t want to let him go. His rhythm is rough, fast, remorseless. She spreads her legs until each knee is levered against a stool, her heels coming back up and around to drive into his luscious backside.

He yanks at her hair until she arches, pushing up off of the counter, his hands tearing at her blouse, opening it, revealing her small breasts beneath the little, fashionable apron she wears, his rough hands sliding under the checkered pane of fabric to grope, to pinch her nipples until they’re puckered so hard, they ache. He leans over and sucks along her neck and shoulder; she feels just the barest hint of his teeth nipping along her skin. And then, still tender between her legs from her first climax, she comes again, clenching hard down on him, squeezing his dick like a fist and sucking him deeper and deeper inside of her.

She feels him convulse, and then he’s spurting his sticking orgasm into her, onto her thighs and ass, holding her down with his strong arm, the muscles rippling and bulging with the strain of their shared ecstasy.

They lie together in a booth, her back to his chest, sharing a cigarette, kissing and petting one another. “Little Red Riding Hood?” she asks in a husky, satisfied voice.

“It seemed like an obvious choice.” His voice rumbles in his chest, making her tingle again.

“What will you come up with next?”

“Wait till next Saturday and find out,” he dares in a growl, and then throws his head back and howls.


End file.
